


Chili Fries Go Straight To Your Thighs

by UnderElk (orphan_account)



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, Eating Challenge, Eating Disorders, Force-Feeding, Hedonic, Intense, M/M, Messy, Mild Smut, Slow Burn, Stuffing, To Be Continued, Undertail, Weight Gain, be warned, sansby - Freeform, undertum - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-09 03:18:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10402644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/UnderElk
Summary: WARNING: 18+, Contains Undertale feederistic content (I.e- getting fat. I.e- liking it), also called ‘Undertum’. If this is not your thing, please keep scrolling. Thank you.Summary: When a food challenge goes awry, it's up to Grillby to salvage things especially when his questionable heroic behavior baffles even himself.LAST WARNING (this one is a bit out there so if you'd please), THIS IS SUPER BELLY FETISH TERRITORY!!! IF YOU REALLY DISLIKE, ESCAPE NOW!! Thank you again.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Due to personal circumstances, I will be removing myself from the Undertum fandom permanently. However, I am leaving these stories for others to enjoy. I apologize to those wished for me to continue working on this story and others but I cannot. I apologize for the inconvenience and wish everyone the best.  
> -Elk

Well if this ‘challenge’ wasn’t a predicament earlier, then it was certainly becoming one now. Sans boisterous laugh could be overheard alongside a cohort of jovial barks, signaling to the bartender, just how intoxicated everyone was. Grillby thought back to earlier in the evening, as he made his way behind the bar again, watching Sans and GD slip to the floor. He pressed his lower half into the back of the bar, trying to calm himself. This was going to be a very long night.

7 hours Earlier:

Sans and the K-9 unit were currently drunk. Now, of course, Grillby was the one to serve them…but after the fifth pitcher of ‘Muffet’s Hard Spider Cider’ it was hard to tell, who had what, when. The group’s friendly banter continued on as he polished his specs, half listening to the conversation, while doing the bar’s inventory in his head.

He’d watched as Bert the Bear hopped from his usual stool at the bar. The political junkie bidding Sans and the other patrons a drunken farewell as he mossied on out the door, with a sway. Grillby sighed a faint breath of relief as the Bear monster went home, happy to have the tension he always seemed to carry with him, dissipating. Things weren’t always bad around Bert, but since he had gotten into it with Sans earlier that night, Grillby was just glad that he was gone.  
With that, Sans began easing into his usual comical routine, going as far to take potshots at the Royal Guard Captain, Undyne. “A-and then I said, ‘What do you call a fish without eyes?’”, his good humored smirk widening “A FSSHHH’”.

Sans slurred out his punch line, slightly slipping from his wooden chair at the dog’s table, who were all currently howling their heads off. Doggo banged a fur paw on the table, “It’s funny cuz she only has one EYE!!!” in which the group erupted into even louder howls. All around the room snickers and exasperated sighs could be heard, spurring the little skeleton monster on.

Grillby widely ignored this and went along in his usual bar tending fashion. It was easy to tune out the loud table, but he wished that could do the same for the nagging memory kept drawing his attention back to the skeleton.

Over the last four months or so, Sans visitations to his establishment had increased in frequency. Like clockwork, the young monster was present at his bar, for at least several hours a week, every week. It wasn’t so much his drinking that was the problem, seeing as ketchup was his main 'beverage’ of choice, but his food consumption was.  
Though Grillbys was a moderately priced establishment, if he had to gander a guess, Sans weekly food bill would be in the 1475 G range. It was steadily increasing, as was the comedian appetite. Soon it’s vastness would rival is his infamous tab.

Sure, Grillby let Sans eat for free, but the money he set aside especially for the skeleton, was starting to eat into the budget that kept the bar afloat. His supplies were already dwindling as is, and Sans didn’t seem to be slowing down either.

It wasn’t like Sans looked any different than usual, but Grillby knew him like the back of his infernoed hand. Yes, skeletons could eat, and the food got absorbed into magical energy instantaneously. But like all monsters, they had their limitations, risking magic poisoning if they went too far.

Taking Papyrus into account, the tall skeleton was reed thin, with a long svelte frame. Gauging his LV, Grillby could very well see that Papyrus probably ate child sized portions, no bigger than what a small monster toddler could stomach, his high magical and physical energy suggesting that what he ingested was enough for his body.  
Sans on the other hand could easily eat enough for four Papyruses, plus ten more in one sitting. He consumed so much and yet, his energy remained very stagnant, low and limited. Grillby just didn’t know where he was putting it all, since there was no physical manifestation anywhere, well not traditional anyway.

At first, Grillby chalked it up to his laziness, but after closely observing Sans throughout the months, this led him to discover something far more intriguing. Never had he ever seen Papyrus sport any sort of items down around the length of his spinal column, choosing to keep that area lean and bare.

However Sans seemed to be keeping something there, with it’s circular shape outlining the inside of his jacket whenever he sat down.

His observations of the shorter skeleton revealed that the bugle was there sometimes and sometimes not. Though he didn’t think Sans knew he was watching him this intently, his curiosity was beginning to kill him. As desperate as he was for answers, he still felt uncomfortable to ask. His questions where answered on their own after one night; however.

Once everyone but Sans had cleared out, he got a full view of what Sans’ was hiding, explaining how he was able to store all that 'extra energy’ he consumed.  
Grillby knew about magically made organs, since on more than one occasion he’d seen Sans used a semi translucent tongue like appendage when eating. When the flame monster was cleaning up for the night, Sans lay fast asleep, arms propped on the bar top cradling his skull as drool ran freely on the freshly cleaned surface. Slightly irritated but mostly tired, Grillby reached across the counter to shake the little monster awake, freezing midway as a glimmer of blue caught his eye. Looking down revealed a faintly glowing object, shining underneath of Sans slightly raised shirt. The blue object rested inside of his lap.

Intrigued, and unable to control his curiosity any longer, Grillby reached farther over, careful not to wake Sans, lifting his shirt higher for a better look. Sure enough, there was blue sack like organ was pressed up against the front of the bar, rising and falling with every soft breath Sans took. Staring at it in confusion, Grillby reached out with his other hand, and poked the sack with a finger.

He felt a zap of familiar magical electricity, the organ taking hold of his finger, leeching off some of his elemental energy, and turning the area he was poking purple.  
Taken aback by the aggressive nature of Sans magic, Grillby quickly snatched his hand away, as if bitten. Sans incoherently mumbled something, turning his face over in his folded arms. The sudden shift in position tugged the shirt free from Grillby’s grasp, stamping a small burnmark on the end from where he held it.

Straightening up and looking down at the skeleton revealed that he was still asleep, however Grillby’s finger felt slick. Upon rubbing the finger up against his thumb, the liquid quickly caught fire, and burned off. The smoke smelled of cooking oils and ketchup. Identifying the smells gave Grillby the sudden realization that this sack thing in Sans lap was a magically constructed stomach. The idea exciting and scaring him to no end in the six seconds it took Sans to mumble himself awake.  
Looking down, Grillby watched as Sans shuffled upright and stretched himself erect, popping his bones and giving Grillby a full view of his blue belly. His ill fitted grease stained tee-shirt riding all the way up. Seeing his entire midsection exposed, Grillby couldn’t stop himself from staring at the plumped out organ presented in front of him. It sat puckered between the bottom of Sans ribcage, softly beginning to flow over the tops of his hip bones.

He could see the spine faintly behind swirls of various blues and pale cream colored liquid magic, as the organ was littered with tiny multi colored bubbles. The fluorescent contents inside swirled peacefully.

Captivated and entranced, Grillby felt his arm twitch violently, so he instantly locked his hands to the underside of the bar’s countertop, abruptly turning his head away in a rash of extreme embarrassment. This caused his spectacles to go flying off of his face.

Feeling his face for the missing accessory, Grillby dropped down too quickly, banging the bottom his jaw square on the bar top, falling back into the floor and slamming up against the liquor cabinet. Sans shouted out to him instantly. Having crawled across the bar, he was then hovering over Grillbys seated position on the floor, stomach hanging down in full view of Grillbys expressionless face. And boy, that did not help.

Scrambling to compose himself and put some distance in between himself and Sans, Grillby jolted back, only to slam his head into the bottom shelf of the alcohol display by accident. Sans watched on in slow growing amusement as he flailed around, flustered.

Slightly dizzy, but no worse for wear, Grillby stopped moving at the sound of Sans laughter, opting instead to silently hold the back of his head, rubbing the tender area.

Snickering at this point, Sans and his belly, finally disappear from Grillby’s view, the skeleton monster asking him if he was alright as he retrieved the glasses on the other side of the bar. Nodding slowly, and rubbing his sore jaw, Grillby’s glasses were then dangling in front of his face, hanging from the fingertips of a grinning Sans who offered his hand, humor still present in the crease of his eye sockets.

Accepting the hand and resuming to tower over the little monster once on his feet, Grillby brushed himself off, readjusting his clothes as Sans teleported back in front of the bar.

“Uhh, ya sure your ok there buddy? Looking a little blue.” Sans chuckled sympathetically, leaning into the bar counter. Shaking his head slightly, still cradling the back, Grillby quietly reassured the little skeleton and reminded him that he closed two hours ago. With a quick 'Ahh’ Sans, gives Grillby one last once over, asking again if he’d be ok. He then bid the fire elemental a good night, upon receiving an adequate answer, teleporting out of the bar. Grillby then slumped back down to the floor, covering his face as his blue licked flames engulfed his entire body in an embarrassing and slightly uneasy arousal.

A creep of blue blush, etched itself across the bartenders face, as he desperately tried to push the thoughts of that night away. He casts his face downward toward to mahogany surface he was currently polishing, blushing harder upon viewing his reflection in the bar top. That was two months ago, and even though he had a good handle on his emotions, recalling that night always brought him mixed feelings.

Driving unwanted thoughts away, Grillby took to working the room, bussing tables, taking order and thanking leaving customers, telling them to have a good night, collecting their bills and tips from their empty tables.

The dog table had not cleared out at all, but it was seemingly quieter as they all were engaged in a game tag team poker. Every dog was paired, Dogamy with Dogaressa, Greater with Lesser Dog and finally Doggo and Sans. Not being much of a gambler himself, Grillby quickly went on cleaning and refilling drinks as Lesser Dog barked out 'Goldfish’ while slamming down an Ace of hearts. As the table cheered, Grillby shook his head, clearly whatever this game was, the rules seemed far too complex to simply pick up from watching.

As the night was maneuvering into morning, it was about two hours till closing. Grillbys was all but empty, aside from his most loyal patrons, who were currently playing truth or dare with a glass bottle and a pack dog treats. Finally landing on Sans, which it mysteriously hadn’t for like 32 turns, Greater Dog barked out 'Roof or Dare’ while the table let out a chorus of drunken giggles. Even though Grillby had cut them off hours ago, each was still nursing the last round of cider.

As the laughter quieted down, Sans took the dog treat from Doggo’s mouth and with a puff answered 'Truth’. The semi-blind dog snatched it back to take another hit, passing Sans the box and lighter. Grillby really didn’t care if they smoked in here, he was a living matchstick as Sans had playfully called him, and as long as there was no one around to complain…

Dogaressa whined “(But you already answered Truth last time, stop being a wimp and pick a dare!)”. “Yea Sans, do'a dare!” Doggo piped up between puffs. The table burst into chants of 'DO THE DARE, DO THE DARE, DO THE DARE!’ as Sans wistfully looked to Grillbys for help, but was met with an amused shrug. The dares hadn’t gotten crazy until Sans took his first turn, and from then on, the dog-pack had been out for dust.  
And admittedly, Grillby wanted to see the skeleton sweat a bit too.

“Alright, alright! I’ll do it!” Sans answered, blue blush from his buzz growing darker from the sudden pressure. “Lay it on me big guy”.  
With that Greater Dog rose to his feet rather quickly, slumping into the wall to catch himself as he declared it a secret. The table watched while laughing as GD sloppily made his way to the bars counter. The smell of hard cider and dog treats was not as revolting as you might think, but in the form of hot dog breath, while being blown directly into Grillbys face, it was slightly nauseating. However, what Greater Dog requested was far more pressing then the unpleasant churning in Grillbys stomach.  
If what GD wanted was going to be fulfilled, the bartender was going to need immediate compensation, time to clean the bar down, and preparation time afterward. With his demands agreed upon, the dog paid and fire man 'officially’ closed the bar for the night. Grillby strode into the kitchen, turning on the deep fryer, pulling out a ten pound bag of his homemade pre-seasoned shoe string french fries, and chili cheese fixings.

The room was quiet once Grillby returned 50 minutes later, walking backwards into the room to open the kitchen door. Never, had he EVER made a meal to this scale, but he was more eager to see how this 'challenge’ would turn out.

The fries were atopped with his special water sausage sweet chili, outfitted with sweet red and green peppers, diced sweet white onions, ground mustard and cumin, ciliantro, chives, and a tomato mix the humans called pico de gallo. The cheese a was melted blend of pepper jack, mozzarella, and white cheddar cheese, onion powder and black pepper. Finally the greasy messy of fries was garnished with shredded mild cheddar cheese, a huge dolp of sour cream, more pico de gallo, lemon zest, chives and cilantro. The dish was layered fries first, melted cheese and chili, this process repeated about five times over, and set with the garnish on top.  
This was an order he didn’t make often, seeing as though most of his saner customers complained about the size. NOBODY had ever requested double portions either, because it was just an insanely amount of food for one monster.

The dish stood 8 inches high and 24 inches in across. A portion this big would give even King Asgore trouble. He literally had to serve it on a oversized serving tray. No plate in his restaurant could fit it all.

When he turned around he could see Sans back toward him, smoking the last of the dog treat as a wobbly Dogamy held him steady. GD bellowed out the full challenge, that he and Sans would split the meal in half, and whoever finished off every scrap of food from their individual plates, would be crowned KING (or queen) of Truth or Dare.

Grillby, stood deadpan, arms beginning to burn under the weight of the massive serving on the tray, it growing heavier by the second. Now how were they suppose to split this evenly when he could barely maneuver a fraction of the entree? The heaviness of the fatty meats and cheeses had the fries clumped together created a solid block of food had snapped the head off of his good metal spatula. Luckily he did not have a speak up as Dogaressa asked this, to which Greater Dog replied they’re were eating it doggy style, with their faces, on the floor.

Everyone sat and stood stock still, sharing bewildered or dead pan expressions as the bigger dog beamed in the ingeniousness of his decision. Right as Grillby began offering a way to cut it in two, somehow, Sans quickly agreed.

“However, the loser…takes the winners morning shifts for all of next week.” Grillby looked at Sans face in the reflection of the bar’s glass window, and he looked back. A quirky smirk indicated to Grillby that Sans was much more sober than he was letting on, calculating his odds as he awaited the reply.  
“Winner also gets a package of specialty dog treats from Hotland and ONE GAME of fetch time with ONE of my femu-”, “DEAL!”. Every dog answered simultaneously, ears and tails perking up before the offer could be finished. Sans gave a small smile and chuckle, finally turning around to Grillby, face dropping once he really got a good look at the entree he just agreed to eat.

He did a double take from the window back the Grillby, realizing that objects were bigger than they appeared in reflective surfaces. He sputtered at the sheer volume, wincing out 'how’ under his breath. GD’s face took on a playfully evil grin (which turned out a more comical than anything) as he watched the skeletons monster try and subdue the look of horror, on his face.

Quickly slipping back into an easy smile, Sans relaxed and waited for Greater Dog to initiate the Chili Fry Eating contest. Grillby cocked his head to the side, a spark of indecency quickly flashed across Sans eye lights, as he looked at towards the food. It was gone just as quickly as it came, the comedian composing himself. Grillby placed the tray on the floor, turning away from everyone as an unwanted shiver of shameful arousal ran up his back in an quick stripe.

Present:

The serving tray sat on the recently swept floor of the establishment. It put a sizable distance in between a crossed legged Sans and Greater Dog, who was on all fours. Grillby had made his way behind the bar, leaning over it, in a spectating fashion. Sans sat angled towards the bar, and awaiting Doggo, who was holding Grillby’s whistle in his left paw. Right as he was about to blow, GD raised his puffy fur paw, stating that 'no hands were allowed in this contest’. Throwing down his paw, he began to eat before Doggo had a chance to signal.

Greater Dog launched face first into the tray of food on the floor in typical dog fashion, every dog cheering him on and laughing as Sans scrambled to get on his hand and knee bones. Hesitant, Sans just waited there, face turning blue, with obvious embarrassment at the situation. His stupor withstanding until Dogamy rallied behind him shouting about the game of fetch he and others were planning, the pack howling in approval. Trying to push aside his inhibitions, for the sake of his legs, Sans brought his face down into the pile of food, just staring at it.

Grillby observed the small skeleton with his face hovering just above the food, instinctively moving to use his hands. “HE’S MOVING, HE’S MOVING HIS HANDS!!” Doggo bellowed back, and GD finally lifted his cheese covered greasy face, shaking his head, as if to say 'tsk tsk tsk’. He then resumed eating, face buried deep within the platter, rudely smacking and making embarrassing noises. The dog’s face was practically designing for this, as Sans struggled to find a decent angle to which attack his side of the tray.

After a minute Sans just opened up his slotted mouth, pushing his face back down into the plate, eating at the pile of fries best he could.

—————————–—  
Face just outside the platter, Sans calmed himself and remembered that breathing was optional. The challenge was simple, but without the use of his hands, and bent over like this, he wasn’t sure if he could do what he needed to do with others present. Sure he had stuck his face inside a whole butterscotch cinnamon pie, suffering as he stuffed in the rich heavy creamy food into his already overly engorged belly with a groan, but he was alone when he did it. If anyone saw him like that, greedily filling himself past capacity, blissfully packed full, barely being able to move afterwards…

Ugh, why did he agree to this in the first place. This K-9 was even goofier than he realized, if he honestly thought either of them could even make a dent in something like this in '30 minutes or less’. It was his fault he’d misjudge the trays size from the window, he should have looked back first. But man, mornings off for a week, he’d be a fool to let that opportunity go.

The size wasn’t the problem, it was the density of the food, the cider from earlier would soak into any starchy foods he ate, and fries were about as an absorbent a food as any, but they did smell really good. This was just how he liked his food, calorie heavy and smothered in cheeses and other greasy dressings.  
The urge to stuff his face till he couldn’t move was searing into his bones fiercely, but he fought to restrain himself. Damn why’d did he have to do this sort of thing in front of a crowd.

The internal conflict was stressing him out, but the smell, ohhh the smell though. It was the best part while Grillby was cooking, the anticipation of he could possibly be getting…but he hadn’t expected such a 'monstrous’ serving of fries. It could feed 12 monsters easy and boy did he need to eat this ALL himself. The thought of all this food packed tightly inside of him, made it hard to breathe.

The longer he smelled the platter, the hungrier he got. It felt like he hadn’t eaten in days, with every inhale he took. Maybe it was the alcohol and dog treats talking but each waft from this stemming pile of gooey cheesiness left his body weak to resisting the temptation of overindulgence. The thought of just letting go, aroused and scared him to no end. However, giving it a tasted, his resolve began crumbling.

He was on his hands and knees for stars sake! He felt like a dirty animal, bent over a pile of grease covered food. The thought of burying his face into the food like Greater Dog, made him ache as he curled his fingers into the bars wooden floor.

What if he started, and he couldn’t stop. He took a small series of bites. What if he disgusted everyone when his ecto belly formed, because he knew it would. He funneled more food into his mouth. What if people, no what if Papyrus, found out about this and his little hobby. The growling in his belly was getting louder. What if, what if…Biting down into a sweet pepper and fry, the cheese that was already in his mouth accentuated the flavor, drawing a long 'mmmmm’ from the back of his throat.

From that moment forward, he found it hard to care, 'Throw it all to hell’ he whispered, pushing is face into plate, reservations be damned.

Closing his eye sockets, Sans turned his face down, away from the group, pressing his awaiting jaws around a section of fry and chili. Turning his head to the side, Sans managed to scrap the food into his mouth, filling up his cheeks with melted cheese covered fries. The crispy pop of the fries melded together with the thick warm gooey cheese, as Sans chewed and swallowed, a thick wad of food going down smoothly, warmth spreading across his bones. His ecto tummy hadn’t conjured yet, but Sans didn’t mind, he could take the slow buildup of excess magic for now. He repeated this scape and chew process, gradually blocking out the sounds of the others around him.

Once he accumulated enough magic energy to create his extra 'ecto storage’, he began physically holding his magic back from creating his external tummy, allowing for its invisible pressure to smother his bones. The constriction worsening with every bite, but he was still uneasy about to revealing his belly to a room of monsters.  
The greasy food was wonderfully filling his magical capacity faster than he could regulate it. With each bite, he could feel his limit fastly approaching. As he struggled to keep his belly from materializing, he fell deeper into a food fueled frenzy, addicted to pressure of getting stuffed and invisibly smothered, abandoning the contest as the choking sensation of his magic entered into a death grip around his spine. Every swallow movement sending pleasurable arcs of brazen magic on a continuous relay from the top of his spinal cord to the bottom and beyond. He never remembered anything being this good before, or working him up this badly.

Maybe it was the fact that he was doing it in public, in front of an audience no less, or maybe it was the food itself, but whatever the reason, Sans felt really, really overwhelmed at the moment, the feeling getting even stronger the longer he continued holding out.

With his face in a particularly cheesy section, his tummy finally broke free of his magical chokehold, rapidly expanding inside his hoodie. The fat little organ, loosing its little status quickly as it grew and rounded out fast with the next several bites.

The outer layer of his ecto belly was soft, with a layer of accumulated pudge encircling the bulbous tight circle of food forming inside. He had been overfeeding himself throughout several timelines now, but this particular one had left him gaining at a much faster rate.  
His tummy had already begun hanging down now, the lower portion forming a thick paunch, swelling more and more, with each meal. His arousal growing as he thought about how’d big he get after the contest.

With a bit of sour cream running into his mouth, Sans returned his attention back to the food, preoccupying himself again. The flavoring was wonderful, the melted cheeses held a savory and addicting rich, heavy creamy taste, pairing perfectly with the sweet peppered water sausage chili. The pick de gallo and lemon adding enough zest to have him drooling for the next bite, sour cream softened the spices and the fries as he chewed.

Finally disregarding the no hands rule, Sans took his left hand and grabbed a fistful of fries and stuck it into his mouth, cramming in much as he could. He started to chew vigorously, each handful after the next going in faster than the other until his face was just open and he shoveled the pile of fries inside, boney posterior pointed directly in the air as he rested on one elbow, different noises escaping him.

He had to get more, and took to balancing on both his elbows, as he used both hands to stuff the food into his mouth. His hood fell from his back onto his head, obscuring his face. With the hoodie’s shielding barrier in place, the remaining bits of Sans’ anxiety ebbed away, as his continued eating.

Hilting on the food in the back of his throat for the third time, Sans struggled to eat properly at this angle anymore, spine curving downwardly in a painful 'C’ shape. Readjusting on his elbows, Sans was brought back to reality for a bit when he squished his soft but heavy tummy in between his femurs. Taken aback by the sudden intrusion, Sans blinked and noticed his tummy was a whole lot bigger now and that the room had grown a lot quieter. Slightly panicking, Sans struggled and pushed himself up to sit on his knees, newly formed and tightly packed ecto belly and straining inside of his shirt, behind his zipped up hoodie.

He felt off balance as the rounded, soft ghostly organ rested in his lap, awaiting the sure to come judgement, as cheese sauce dripped from his face.  
Looking up at the group, he could see that Greater Dog had removed himself from the floor, and sat in a chair, head resting on the wooden table. Underneath the table was a puffy white bulge peaking through the slats of his armor. Sans snorted once he realized that it was his belly, the poor guy had eaten until his chain mail had popped. He lightly laughed some more before cradling his skull in his hand, trying to remember when that happened, breathing a sigh of relief that nobody had noticed his stomach.

Sans could feel the dull throb of the cider and treats wearing off, and ventured a look at his side of the tray. He had almost completed his side, yet GD’s wasn’t even halfway as empty. How hadn’t he noticed that? He was almost eating on the other side of the tray now.

The Greater Dog placed his hand on the table, his cute little dog face showing signs of strain, exhaustion and just like that he forfeited. A cluster of sad whimpers and grunts came from the dog pack as they helped GD up and off of the chair, ushered him outside. Doggo returning a few seconds later, telling Sans he won and to keep the food. After that, both bar tender and skeleton just looked at one another and laughed.

Sans laughed, rubbing his belly through his hoodie as he felt it jump alongside each chuckle. He began poking it through his hoodie, looking back at the half tray of food still sitting there. Then Grillby piped up, speaking quickly.

'You know, he’s already paid for it. Would you wish to continue eating? I’m afraid that I do not have enough containers for you to take all of it home, so it’ll more than likely be thrown away if you do not wish to keep it…’.

Sans stopped poking his stomach and stared at the flame elemental. This, was the most he had ever spoken in any timeline, EVER. Shocked into silence, Sans just continued to sit there, staring, cheese and sauces still running along the smooth curve of his rounded jaw. The fire monster face burning increasingly light blue, almost white, the flaming tips of his head already white. Somewhat dejectedly Grillby, quickly rounded the bar with a 'I’ll throw it away then’. Before he could bend down to pick the tray up Sans scooted back from his grasp.

“Ok, wow just a moment here bucko, I didn’t say I didn’t want it Grillbz, it’s just…I’ve never heard you speak so much one setting before, spooked me a bit, heh heh. Look, I know ya worked real hard on this, so of course I’d finish it. I was a bit hungry away. So, your masterpiece gets the proper send off it deserves and I get ah free meal, it’s a win win.”

Rising to his feet, Sans struggled over his stomach to pick up the tray, walking towards a booth, “But I’m not stayin’ on the floor.” He said with a wink, watching as the Grillby’s coloring returned a somewhat normal color of blue. He wasn’t really use to the blue either, but it was better than the white flames that kissed the ceiling.  
'Gee wiz he really gets worked up when it comes to people wasting his food huh? Gotta remember that.’ Sans thought, regarding the bartenders blue hue from last time as something of discomfort or pain. 

—————————–—  
H-he agreed to continue?? Really?? Just like that??? If Grillby had a mouth to grin with…

Sans was always an odd one, and finding out about his blue ghost belly was even odder but, this really took the cake.

During the competition, Grillby couldn’t take his eyes off Sans once he really got into it. As he nibbled the food, Grillby could see hints of internal conflict dance across his face. He had known the young skeleton since he was a child, observing that he didn’t emote much, this, coming from a monster with a literal wall of fire for a face.  
Being expressionless, Grillby developed the skill to read most people in an instant. Sans took a little longer, but he could almost always tell what he was thinking.  
With each nibble turned into a bite, Grillby could see Sans sinking further into a food fueled liberality, the last vestiges of his reservations struggling to keep him from giving in completely to temptation.

At least to the fire monster it was was getting pretty obvious that he wanted to really let go as he frustratedly gnawed at his food. Grillby drank in each pained and twisted expression of his sweat glistened face, letting the burrowed brow bone and pleasure stained expressions 'burn’ into his memory.

Getting down on one elbow and then the next, Sans began using his hands to shovel food into his grease stained face, straining to reel in noises that bubbled up with a hoarse croak inside his throat. It was almost animalistic the way he ate, stuffing as much as he could with every boney hand full, hands still containing partially eaten food from the previous trip. Grillby couldn’t look away, even if he wanted to. Waves of shame splashing down around him as Sans enjoyment turned his face almost deep violet.

The dogs weren’t paying Sans any attention, as Greater Dog began slowing down. The big guy took in too much too fast, and the others barks of disapproval weren’t helping.

At some point, the hoodie had fallen onto Sans face, covering his reactions. Instantly, Grillby started making his way around the bar to pull the intrusive article of clothing off, but he froze, when he could see the beginning of Sans belly peeking out from behind the back of his hoodie, expanding down and filling out as he rooted through the tray, small noises escaping him. The noises and glimpses of his face was all Grillby could focus on as he pressed himself up against the bar, watching Sans stuffed himself silly, the dogs still obvious to both monsters stimulation.

Greater Dog finally gave up, once the seams of his chain-mail armor unattached themselves from their metal bindings. The dog pack was well on their way out when Sans finally came up for air.

The portions of food in which Greater Dog has eaten from was scraped away, leaving a sizable chunk let for Sans to eat. The food was reheated with fire magic as Sans sat seated in the booth farthest from the door, back up again the wall.

He was tucked in between the table and the cushioned chair, groggy face indicating that he was entering into food coma territory.  
When Grillby returned to the table with the remainder of the fries presented on an actual large serving plate, Sans perked up a bit. Placing the king size bottle of ketchup on the table, drew a puzzled expression from the skeleton. Not to damper the mood, Grillby quickly added 'On the house’ and shuffled off to reclean the already clean floor.

They were alone now and Grillby did not trust himself with Sans since he was 'vulnerable’ being that full. If he gave him some distance, maybe his arousal would fade. Turning on his heels to leave the skeleton monster in peace, he was halfway to the kitchen until Sans meekly added 'I’d thought we’d, yanno, shoot the shit and talk a bit. Yanno, 'ketchup’ since it’s finally quiet.’

Looking back over his shoulder, Grillby could see the tired wry smile on Sans face, as he gazed up at him through half lidded eye sockets. The food was making him lethargic. A surge of dominance licked and curled inside the pit of Grillby’s stomach, the need to force the remaining food into a helpless Sans, feeling as his round soft tummy was filled until he couldn’t move, was almost crippling. But Grillby sat down with a nod and proceeded to make small talk despite is rational mind telling him otherwise.

They spoke about Papyrus, the weather, Bert, and Snowdin happenings in general, both artfully dancing around the topic of what just happened. Sans was slow to eat, picking at the food instead. Grillby watched his face again as he took more slow bites, emotion playing out easily on his face. He was still savoring the food, but he was getting full, and with the tension in Grillbys back tightening,the harder it was to keep still.

—————————–—  
By the third swig of ketchup, Sans was officially stuffed, he couldn’t eat anymore. Unofficially he technically had been full, for a few hours, but the ecto tummy helped with that. However, it was nearing its capacity, already stretched and full of fries and cheese. Despite how good they tasted, he was getting overwhelmed with half a plate to go.

The cider had water logged the fries, expanding and settling into him like sediment. By the fourth handful, Sans was really struggling. He belly wasn’t really giggling anymore, just a big round ball, too full and too heavy to move. Then he ventured a look at Grillby, the fire elemental had be quiet for the longest time since he’d started eating, his face never returning to its normal reddish orange hues.

Now he didn’t talk much to begin with, but Sans could sorta tell when he was thinking, verses just listening. Lacking a traditional face, the glasses Sans suggested made it easier to read Grillby, but not now. He just seemed, off. Was, was he still mad about the food? Surely he couldn’t be still right, Sans was still eating.

Not wanting to upset the bartender, after all he had done for him in the past, Sans took a handful, while resuming his jovial conversation, forcing down the food.  
He was going to need relief soon, and even though he was less than thrilled, he’d expose his belly if have to. This was Grillby, Grillbz, his old buddy. Out every monster he’d ever encountered, Grillby was one of the most understanding. Sans told him everything on many a occasion, the fire elemental always excepting him. This time wouldn’t be any different, right? 

—————————–—  
Grillby sat, slightly hunched over the booth’s wooden table, legs crossed at the ankle, thighs rubbing together.  
Mother of stars, how long was this suppose to take! Was he eating so slowly! He didn’t want to rush his friend, but his self control was only so strong.  
The bar was cleaned up, lights mostly off except for one they were using and the front door locked. Both he and Sans were sitting in the booth closest to the jukebox, with the small wall light, as low as visibly possible.

Sans was slowing down, opting to talk more, and Grillby complied for a while, however; losing himself in the gradual swelling of Sans belly, as it peeked up from behind the table. By the time he cleared to half of the plate, it sat prominently, straining up against the zipper of his hoodie.

Sans seemed like he didn’t notice the distension, or chose to ignore it. Either way it looked like it was too full to be comfortable anymore, but then he took another handful of fries and ate. His concern for friend mixing with his arousal.

The flushed feeling never went away, taking to instead to scorch the fire man’s skin, warmth enveloping his nether region as he watch the skeleton monster struggle to finish, Sans clearly not wanting to stop, but not really able to go forward.

This continued for five more handfuls, as Sans barely made a dent in the remaining contents. Sans gave out a sudden defeated groan, and softly rested his head back up against the wall, stopping the conversation all together. He looked miserable.

Grillby asked if everything was alright, to which Sans replied that “Yea..Just gotta, gotta do…something, hold up.” He answered, slightly winded.  
Not knowing what would happen next, Grillby dug is inflamed nails into the table as Sans unzipped his hoodie, pushing his binding basketball shorts off of his belly.  
His shirt was clean, save for the greasy collar, and had already bunched up on his ribs.

Resting back into the booth to get comfortable, His tummy was HUGE. It was much bigger than how it looked underneath the hoodie. With that San began massaging his tight stomach with soft moans, trying to relieve the soreness, almost as if he forgotten Grillby was there.

The organ was completely round out, with no pudge in sight. It sat completely pushed out and filled with so many bubbles and cream colored swirls. The usual blues were a blend of navy and colbolt, that sat towards the bottom. They were lower than Sans popped out out navel. He had a navel? Thinking back, Grillby only remembered a deep crevice in the area where the navel was currently. The realization of just how fat Sans really was, made his lower body burn, hard.

At full capacity, Grillby could not his spine at all. He’d never hugged Sans before, but the thought of being able to get his arms around his waist seemed challenging. It might be possible if he squeezed, but the greedy organ might leech off some of his magic again.

The thought of the magical stomach sucking in his own energy, accumulating it, and growing larger made his inverted heart speed up, hands slightly searing the table.  
But Sans was one of his best friends and most loyal customer. Judging by how big he was, his best customer. Granted he could summon his belly at will, but it was obvious that it acted like any other stomach on an organic monster, with the ability to store food and grow fat.

It was NOWHERE as large as it was now verses when he first saw it. He looked like an oversized beach ball full of swirling colors and bubbles. Grillby stopped his creeping hand, as it was absentmindedly reaching out to touch him, but Sans noticed it before he could withdraw.

Cocking head to the side, Grillby’s hand just wouldn’t retract, as he sat frozen in fear. Sure that Sans would freak out, the laughter was more that startling.  
“Go ahead and touch, it won’t bite” Sans said between mouthfuls. “You’ve probably been wonderin’ what it is all evening”.

Giving him permission, and explaining what he already figured out, Sans permitted Grillby to touch his stomach. Now the bartender was sitting on the same side of the booth as the outstretched skeleton monster.

Sans agreed to allow Grillby to rub his stomach, so that he could relieve some of the built up pressure and quietly what he called his 'innocent curiosity’.  
Sure enough as soon as he touched it, the colors inside of Sans started to change. Grillby wasn’t even applying his healing magic yet and already different hues of purples and berry reds, bled throughout the organ, slowly dying Sans insides red and expanding his gut.

Sans took a few more fries to his mouth and closed his eyes, discomfort being replaced with content as his talking began to slow.  
Was Sans truly comfortable with him touching his body this way? Apparently so, when after three more handfuls had the skeleton monster was dozing off. Yet, he tried to keep going, dropping food out of his hand and onto his shirt.

'Too tired, feed me’ slipped out of Sans mouth and struck Grillby over the head with a case of the 'I can’t breathes’. He wasn’t sure he heard correctly.  
Having been transfixed with rubbing Sans gut, the softness slowly returning, Grillby looked directly in Sans face to see if it was a sign of a joke. His stomach expanding as it took more of his essence and healing magic.

He stopped moving his hands, taking to curl then around the fatty adipose, staring as Sans cracked an eye open with 'Is that a no then?’ causal smile spreading across his face.

Without giving Sans a chance to change his mind, Grillby quickly took a handful of the remaining food, and smushed it forcefully into Sans mouth. He would let him change his mind.

—————————–—  
Taken aback by his sudden brashness, Sans tried tell Grillby hold on, brow bones furrowing in confusion when finding that moving his arms were impossible. They were stuck in between the table and booth.

Grillbys face was a dark blue and getting darker, the position they were in compromised Sans mobility. Between the weight of his belly and the force Grillbys hand was exerting on it, Sans was slipping further and further down into the booth, until he was literally lying in his back, left arm still unable to lift from underneath the table, the right pinned into the booth. He tried propping up on an elbow, but Grillbys weight, added to his own wouldn’t allow it, his mouth accepted each handful willingly, without his conscious consent.

What was wrong with him? He was pinned underneath his friend, as said friend had him forced down and force feeding him food. The thought delighted and terrified him.

He could have stopped this at anytime, teleported away, pushed him off, yelled at him, anything, but he didn’t. Instead allowing the fire elemental to hold him down and force more and more food into his gut. Grillbys free hand vigorously rubbing over every inch of the taut flesh, sweeping red hot arcs of pleasure all over its circumference.

He has never been treated this way in his life, forced to eat, overfed way past his capacity, external magic forcing him to expand and his belly greedily wanting more. At the moment is was all overwhelming and he couldn’t think straight, opting to allow his body to feel it, desperately trying to stop his moans from escaping.  
It seemed like it was never ending, each big mouthful he’d swallow instantly replaced by the next. His mouth was never empty for long, and his belly burgeoning with the fattening fare as it converted the handfuls of food into solid energy.

The pace was fast and brutal, his bones sapped of all will to fight back, so he just allowed it to happen. Eye sockets fluttering closed as Grillby just kept cramming more and more food into his face. It all felt so good, the thought that he was getting bigger and bigger with each bite, feeling every curve and roll develop and thicken in real time.

His reservations that he shouldn’t be enjoying this were being pushed away as Grillby started squeezing handfuls of the new developing fat, scraping the underside of the paunchy area of his gut with unbearably hot fingertips.

A long whimper slipped out of him as the fingers burned alongside the bottom of his belly, shooting pleasure right into his pelvis. Suddenly all movement and flow of food above him stopped instantaneously. Grillby removed his scalding hands off of his gut, catching Sans off guard.

Breath more than a little labored and disappointment setting in, Sans opened to his eyes and tried to sit up, somewhat afraid that he’d taken things to far. To his surprise, Grillby was wiping his grease covered hand on his formal black vest, as he grabbing for something from the table. A second later, the silent fire elemental plunged the ketchup bottle into his mouth, giving the container a heartily squeeze, contents coming out fast, drowning his mouth.

Gagging, Grillby pulled the bottle back from Sans mouth, with quick apology. Asking for it back and chugging it in good faith, Sans rested back as the sweetened tomato sauce overpowered the remaining flavors, topping off his binge nicely. The bartender instantly went back to squeezing and massaging his stomach, stopped again to quickly remove his vest and long sleeve button up, leaving on his undershirt.

He returned his burning hands back to the completely purple and red ecto tummy, engorging itself on his elemental magic and ketchup. Rubbing and squishing it as Sans whined for him not to stop underneath. This was the turning point in which this not so friendly feeding was developing into something else. Sans pointly trying to ignore the dead set lust, piercing through his feeding daze, but his mouth was requesting for the fire elemental to keep going and squeeze him harder.  
Grillby let out a series of little grunts, as he hefted Sans stomach up into one big squishy armful, gathering as much excess as he could.

Bottle completely drained of all ketchup, Sans tried looking up and see what Grillby was doing, instead arching his back up off the seat of the booth, throwing his head back in a loud low moan.

The searing heat from Grillbys tongue spread out across his tummy, wrapping down and around every boney extremity like tendrils of wildfire. He could physically see Grillbys magic spreading throughout his stomach, arking ravenous reddish orange lines like liquid fire from where his tongue had been.  
The fire elemental continued to lick, squish and bite into him. Sans couldn’t stop himself, buckling up his hips, only to find them trapped underneath him mass and Grillby.

Each grope of hand, squeeze of a love handle and playful but hard nip of excess flesh was being to compound pressure in his crotch that hurt so badly. Sans tried to rock up and get friction, groaning hard behind the hand blocking his mouth. Grillby was growing more aggressive with each passing moment, biting down into his belly as he slowly plumped it out with more of his magic.

Trying to tell him to stop forcing more in, was pointless Sans kept choking on his words as Grillby scrapped his fire red fingertips down the side of his belly, while his face remained a dark violet color.

Choking back a overstimulated sob, Sans gasped for air grinding as best he could, hopeless to stop the pleasureful shocks from pelting into his spine. Grillby grunted over top of him again, this time hefting most of his stomach up into his ribcage while he repositioned himself to straddle Sans.

It was a bit uncomfortable until Grillby lowered Sans stomach, resting the bulging mass on his very hot lap. The fire monster then proceeded to burrow his face into the soft pillow like organ, rubbing and snuggling he face into it, gripping Sans sides with hungry hands.

Sans breath began to regulate until Grillby took his whole hand went to work, jiggling and shaking his stomach zealously. Sans bones rattled in the process.

“Ahh, ahhhh, AHHHH!”

Scrabbled to find something to hold onto, Sans cries got louder and louder as his boney digits flailed uselessly against the booths seat, toe bones curling in his slippers. The sudden movement, was overpowering is every other thought as Grillby sat on top of his pelvis area, entire body vibrating underneath the shock-waves given off by his belly.

While his movement was limited, confined to the booth and under Grillby, his magical nerve endings where alive, jolting intensely, begging for him to reciprocate somehow.

Adjusting himself on Sans lap, Grillby shifted upright to regrab the portion belly that had managed to slip from his grasp. With the temporary weight lifted, Sans hips thrust up on their own accord, pressing into Grillby by accident. With the jiggling stopped Sans turned his head away, mortifyingly trying to explain it was an accident, until the bartender sat back, grinding down onto him, shaking him harder as he responded with a series of choking sounds and whimpers.

He wasn’t drunk anymore and Grillby was never drunk to begin with, so he knew that they both understood what was happening and that made him uncertain.  
Unsure on how to proceed, all of his uncertainty was shot straight from his mind when the fire monster stopped shaking him pressed his face back down into Sans gut, continuously squeezing him while grinding his tummy and pelvis. This sent a surge of Grillbys magic cracking along the bones of his crotch, leaving Sans to involuntarily thrusting up to meet the next grind, rolling his head to the side in a series of straining noises.

Both reeling from the tension building from rubbing against each other, Sans moaned loudly as he thrust upward into Grillbys silently grinding. The bulge in the fire man’s pants had become apparent as he desperately pressed into Sans belly. Sans got louder with each rock of his hips, when both made contact, creating electrifying friction. The grip Grillbys had around his stomach was starting to get painful.

His hands were digging into Sans sides as his thrusts shook his belly. As the thrusting got harder, Sans gut pitched and swayed with each roll of the fire man’s hips. Grillbys pace becoming jerky, sputtering movements.

Unfortunately, Grillby positioned himself over the hollowed portion of Sans crotch, expected something to be there. His face still resting on Sans tummy, as the area grew increasingly hotter.

As Grillby rubbed up against him, breathing shallowly, his lower half chaffed against the crumpled fabric of Sans shorts. Trying to find anything down there, he gave up and moved higher up on Sans.

No longer holding onto his stomach, Grillby propped himself high enough to grind up against his belly directly, indicating how close was, desperate for any sort of resistance to rut up against. With its excess flesh, the stomach jiggled violently as he humped it and Sans into the cushioned seat, the organ soft enough to plow his clothed erection into. Throwing his head back, Grillby let’s out a puff of steam from his mouth, clawing at the zipper on his pants, unable to properly grip the slippery zip tab.

Sans couldn’t do much more than piston his hips up into the air, to graze the underside of Grillbys pants every now and again, his own desperate frustration growing. Taking notice to his predicament, Grillby placed a hand underneath of himself grabbing the clothed covered bridge of Sans pubic symphysis, with his overly warm hand, squeezing and rubbing it rigorously.

Falling back with a long broken moan, Sans own sexual magic stirred, but didn’t automatically form because belly so full, it was throwing off his equilibrium and distribution. Frustrated, Sans yanked down his basketball shorts, replacing Grillbys hand to rub him again. Sans began manually using his hands to form another ecto organ.

A large round of loud raps could be heard from the door along with the blaring voice of Papyrus from front door of the bar.

“BROTHER! BROTHER ARE YOU IN THERE?! IT’S LITERALLY 5 IN THE MORNING, COME HOME THIS INSTANT!”

Sans froze in place, eyelights vanished from his darkened sockets. Looking up to Grillby revealed he was a pale pinkish white color, clearly mortified, erection flaccid. Just as the banging started to quiet down, Papyrus concluding that the bar may be empty, Doggo’s chipper voice melded with Papyrus’s muffled one.

“No, I didn’t seen him leave, he was definitely still there when I left…”

Trying the handle again, and banging on the door, “SANS, SANS CAN YOU HEAR ME IN THERE? DID GRILLBY LOCK YOU IN AGAIN? UGHHH, YOU HAVE TO STOP DOING THIS! DON’T WORRY BROTHER I SHALL GET THE SPARE KEY UNDER THE ROCK.”

—————————–—  
Bending down into the bushes, Papyrus rummaged around for the Little Rock monster who guarded the spar key to Grillbys. Having woken up a grumpy Grillby on more than one occasion when his brother had gotten locked into the bar, Grillby gave Papyrus special permission to come on in and collect his brother if the bar was closed. They also had an arrangement that Papyrus would take secret cooking lessons from the flame elemental from time to time, but he wouldn’t tell Undyne that.

Tonight would be no exception, when he did not find his brother on the couch or in his room after his 3 three hour power nap, the concluded that the bartender must allowing him to stay overnight. That would not due, the The Great Papyrus’s brother needed more discipline, and he was his brother’s keeper after all.

Thanking the groggy little rock creature as it spit up the key, Papyrus promptly stuck the key inside the lock, listening as the tumblers engaged and open. Returning the key to its rightful place, he pushed open the door, with Doggo in tow.

Inside he found Sans, striding towards them, wobbling with an easy smile on his face.

 

—————————–—  
“Heya bro”

Sans quickly made his way across the bars floor, tugging his hoodie down around his stomach as best he could. Grillby was hidden inside the booth seat with his bunched close to his chest. Thank the stars he always wore clothing thrice his size. Sure he could have teleported home, but Grillby was half exposed and he couldn’t teleport them both when his magic so sporadic. Horny skeleton monsters did not do well when teleporting, he learned that the 'hard’ way, when trying as a teenager, but that was a story for another day.

Grabbing the door Sans used his magic to flip the lock, ushering Doggo and his brother out of the restaurant. Slamming the door behind him gave Grillby enough time to dashed from he booth without anyone seeing him from the glass.

Turning around to face the group, Sans took in a deep breath and stopped his brother from talking.

“Heyyya buddyyyy, where’d ya run off too?”. Directing his slurred statement towards Doggo, the short skeleton clambered towards him , taking him under his boney arm. “I thought we were gonna go on a walk”.

With that Doggo perked up.

“Walk!”  
“YEAAAAA buddy, walk, come on”. Sans grabbed the dog pulling him closer, using his body to cover his belly from Papyrus. The jacket hid him for now, but it wouldn’t for long, he knew Papyrus would see right threw his ruse.

Sans pretended to stumble back, pulling Doggo along the away from the bar, talking fast to answer Papyrus’s questions. “HEY WAIT! WHY ARE YOU TAKING A WALK AT 5 IN THE MORNING, WHY DIDN’T YOU COME OUT WHEN I CALLED YOU THE FIRST TIME”.

“shh, shhhh bro, your gonna wake the neighbors”. With that Sans scooter farther back.\

“Gotta go, Doggo needs his early morning walk.”

“WALK!”

“Yea buddy, walk.”

Papyrus tried interjecting, but Sans kept cutting him off, walking backwards.  
“Hey, no no, it’s okay Doggo and I are gonna go for a little walk, sober up and all that”

“But I’m not drun-”

Sans arm gripped the dog into a light choke hold, bending the dog over.

“Heh heh, silly old dog, always with the jokes this guy.”

He brought a bottle of the dog’s favorite brandy out is jacket pocket. Pushing the closed bottle to his face, eyes pleading with the dog to play along. Taking the hint Doggo careened back, partially facing Papyrus. “Uh, uh yep, that’s right, a walk, a walks what we need, to clear our heads yea!”

With that the both proceeded to walk backwards, making horrible bone puns, distancing themselves from Papyrus. Annoyed and refusing to stand anymore, he yelled, “ENOUGH! NO MORE PUNS, AWAY WITH BOTH OF YOU THEN, GO ON YOUR 'WALK’.”

Both turned around and headed towards the exit to the Snowden woods, as Papyrus called,  
“BUT WHAT ABOUT THE MORNING SHIFT?”.

Sans waved him off,  
“D-don’t worry, got em covered today”. With that, both entered forest, and out of the view of Papyrus, cracked open the drink.

Once the tiny bottle was empty Doggo chucked it into the woods. Sans then teleported both he and Doggo to the outskirts of New Home per the dog’s request.  
Landing on his feet, Doggo belly flopping to the ground, Sans helping his friend to his feet. Doggo didn’t ask questions, just simply stating, “You know you owe me right?”. Giving the skeleton a lopsided doggie grin, brushing himself off, actually buzzed this time.

“Y-Yea,*urrp* I know” Sans was clearly just an intoxicated. They didn’t speak about contest or anything, both waving and parting ways. Doggo went into the resort while Sans made his way deeper into New Home, pondering over what the hell just happened and what to do about Grillby.


End file.
